


I'm gonna love you anyhow.

by dollylux



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, People Watching, Pining, Shyness, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cafe. Twenty somethings. Relatively famous boyfriends and a nobody admirer. The beautiful ignored. Elliott Smith. The perpetually not-good-enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm gonna love you anyhow.

Long, elegant fingers clasped around a half-smoked cigarette and a lush mouth wrapped around the end of it and Iker has lost all ability to function. He hadn't seen him at first, hadn't noticed him entering, perhaps, because of the stir his escort had caused upon entering. Iker had noticed that man, noticed the way everyone sat up straighter and smiled and whispered and the small, intimate little café had turned into a high school cafeteria almost seamlessly. Iker supposed the man was handsome in a classic way but he walked with a subtle air of disdain, of dismissal, his hand forever clasped around his phone, ready to receive any information he could on a better party, a better crowd, a better time. All that commotion and Iker had missed him entirely, had missed Sergio's quieter entrance even though Sergio's fingers had been tangled with his boyfriend's, dragged along like a ragdoll, large, bottomless eyes lowered, watching feet and maybe hands, everything but the faces that were receiving the attention that he vied for every evening.

Iker shifts in his chair, fingers clasping the edge of the table as a plume of smoke escapes Sergio's mouth, his whole body leaning toward him. He can't quite make out what's being said at their table which isn't very far away from his own really but the band onstage seems determined to keep Iker in the dark. The lights on the stage change as the song does and they flicker momentary shadows over Sergio's skin before exposing him in a moody, blued light, the delicate bones of his wrist and jaw and collar highlighted almost tragically. Iker watches him go unnoticed, watches as Sergio's boyfriend turns even more obviously away from Sergio and more toward his little semi-circle of friends who are laughing like he has said the single most hysterical thing they have ever heard. Sergio smiles and it looks tired, almost sad, certainly vacant and he wraps a quietly possessive arm around his boyfriend's waist, curling down to rest his chin on the man's shoulder, dropping kisses over sweaty cotton, hiding a smile there in it that goes unfelt. He turns after a moment, his cheek pressed to his boyfriend's spine, eyes hooded as he watches his own fingers put out the stub of his cigarette and Iker's heart aches-it physically aches- when Sergio's small form lifts and falls slightly in a sigh.

 

"Hey, man, we're gonna split. There's a party down at Bruno's and we were thinkin'--"

"Hey, yeah, I might catch up with you. I'm gonna listen to the rest of this set and I'll head out," Iker replies as casually as he can, tearing his eyes away from Sergio and looking up at his best friend. They bump knuckles in a goodbye and his friend is gone, incidentally walking past Sergio's table, pausing to say a hello to one of the crowd. Sergio lifts his head briefly but goes back to resting against his boyfriend's back. He lifts his eyes and they flash like lightning in the dim room and they find Iker's like a searchlight. Iker freezes in place but it's not visible, it's only felt under Iker's skin, in his veins and his bones and his guts. He braves on and returns the gaze as evenly as he can, keeping his eyes as glinting as he can, as vaguely interested so maybe he can keep Sergio's attention. They had done this dance before, whether Sergio realizes it or not. (Iker remembers though. He remembers every single time.)

Sergio regards him like he's watching a film, or maybe like he would watch the band onstage, acknowledging that Iker is a man watching him, an attractive one at that, but his expression doesn't change, his arms don't loosen around his boyfriend's lean waist. They tighten there, in fact, as if maybe reminding Iker, his new admirer, that he is indeed attached. Iker's mouth curls into the very barest hint of a smile, tipping his head to rest his cheek against his knuckles and he looks almost wistful now and he can't help it, he simply can't help it tonight. Not when it's so cold out there and Sergio is only wearing a thin t-shirt, not when the band is playing a Cure cover and absolutely breaking Iker's heart, not when those eyes look like melted honey in these deceptive lights and not when (it feels like) they are the only two people in the room tonight, right now. Sergio smiles and it's a real one, the first sign of true emotion that Iker has seen on him in the five months since he'd first started coming to this little café with that Very Important boyfriend of his. He hides his face against the boy's back again before looking back at Iker and he's blushing now and Iker is sure of it, he's absolutely sure of it. His heart soars and he flashes Sergio a brilliant smile, the most brilliant of all his smiles, one that exposes his missing incisor, one that makes his dimples wink and his eyes spark to life and makes him look inviting, so inviting. Sergio looks near to something-- to standing up and coming to him, to giving him a smile back that would melt the room, to maybe flirting with Iker a little, god just a little, anything--but Mr. Important's phone rings and he's standing up, jarring Sergio to life and the sudden movement startles him back into reality.

Iker sits back, the spell broken, his heart broken. He watches as Sergio is pulled to his feet, tugged up as an afterthought, picked up like a coat or a purse or a leftover box. Iker can hear his heart over the music now as the crew of them approach, the little one, his little one (Sergio) bringing up the rear. He's tempted to trip the boyfriend just to see what would happen, how he would react but he doesn't. He does lift his eyes as Sergio passes, his face burning when he feels Sergio glance at him for the briefest of seconds and his warmth, that lean body's warmth is undeniable and scorching and his scent is in Iker's nostrils and he reaches out impulsively and lets his fingers light on the back of Sergio's hand, fingertips pressing into the veins and birdbones on the top of it before sliding up to smooth over Sergio's fingers. Sergio pauses and it's all so brief, it's all only seconds but Iker's world slows like wet sand when those eyes find him for the third time tonight, when he has Sergio's attention and he's touching him at the same time and all he wants to do in the face of it all is cry.

"You look beautiful tonight," he confesses to Sergio, his voice earnest and dulcet and he can swear that it's trembling. His ribs are on fire, his chest and up to his neck and his entire body is suddenly bursting to stand up, to take him away from the quickly retreating crowd, to steal him away and bury him down into his quiet bed and give him every single ounce of his attention for hours and hours and hours. He memorizes him in this moment, in this rare instant of surprise that registers across his face flawlessly: his eyelashes impossibly long and tipped apart as wide as possible, his eyes not honey at all but darker, far, far darker and more earth than chocolate and his nose is an imperfect, beautiful line down his face, an arrow down to that paint stroke of a mouth that is parted in softness, in surprise, in genuine feeling. Iker notices that his hair is laying carelessly over his shoulders and that the collar of his thin black shirt is like a ballet neck and exposes the loveliest hint of his chest just, just barely. He feels Sergio's hand flutter under his own before an impatient voice breaks through, slicing through the cloud between them and Sergio is being pulled away, is sucked into the depth of the crowd and gone from him, vanished as quickly as he'd come.

Iker doesn't notice as his fingers curl into themselves, as they rub at the inside of his own palm to try and savor the tingle Sergio's skin gave him, trying to maintain that particular warmth he had just felt, just one second ago. He glances around self-consciously, well-aware that he's not good enough for Sergio, that he can never compete with anything or anyone truly worth his time but it hasn't stopped him yet. And it won't stop him tomorrow night either.


End file.
